


An Interesting Turn of Events

by Xiah_sensei



Series: Digestion Slows Me Down [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, Family, Kittens, M/M, Protective Sherlock, Rick - Freeform, THE KITTENS ARE BACK, browning L9A1, gun - Freeform, love the kittens, non-alcoholic Harry, nothing majorly slashy, slightly slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xiah_sensei/pseuds/Xiah_sensei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's playing with a kitten! Harry's come over for a visit! And John's getting raped behind Sainsbury's - No! Wait! It didn't get that far! Sherlock Holmes to the rescue!</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Interesting Turn of Events

**Author's Note:**

> Well, well, well! Here's the second installment of the 'Digestion Slows Me Down' Series :D I love that... one of the best quotes int he series BY A LONG SHOT.
> 
> Anywho, enjoy this. I liked this one... I think :D haven't read it in a while. So yeah.. enjoy!

John was out again. Sherlock had needed milk for his tea and because he was still clearing up the apartment from the 'kidnapping' of himself and Sarah, John had to be the one to pop down to the shops and get it. He didn't mind, of course, but he was always apprehensive of Rick who was still tailing them. He made sure never to become alone. He made sure to always have someone around him, be it random people on the streets, Sherlock, or Mrs Hudson. He had to have someone or he was sure that Rick would make a move again and he was not looking forward to it. He could tell that Rick was interested in him, he did know. John wondered if that had been Mycroft's plan all along. But he didn't ponder on it because he'd just reached the house and was greeted by… no one. Mrs Hudson hadn't come out of her kitchen to great him. That was strange.

He jogged up the stairs to his apartment ridding his mind of Mrs Hudson. She could do what she wanted. It was just coincidence that she was always there when he came back from the shops in the morning. She could be at the dry cleaners or something… like… that…

He stopped cold in the doorway to their living room. He saw Sherlock in his arm chair with the paper… but something was wrong with the image. John noticed a ball of string was on the table top and the little black and white kitten Sherlock had named Pandora was sitting on the arm of the chair mewling expectantly. Also Sherlock's hair was more dishevelled than usual and he had a few small, red scratches on his pale bare arms. John raised an eyebrow at the sight. "You've been playing with the kitten haven't you?"

Sherlock set down the paper and reached out a hand to stroke its head completely ignoring John. John could tell that Sherlock obviously wasn't comfortable with admitting that sort of thing so John helped him a bit. "I was playing with Ginger this morning. It's nothing to be ashamed of. We do have cats now so they need some attention." He reassured him.

John strode across the living room and into the kitchen where Ginger was waiting for him expectantly. She leapt onto his chest the moment he got close enough to the kitchen table. "Whoa!" John cried in surprise when he felt the little scrabbling paws try to latch onto his clothes. He dropped the shopping and grabbed the scrabbling little animal. John was slightly surprised when he didn't hear the thump of the bag of food dropping to the floor. He turned around and was met by startlingly black eyes. John almost dropped the kitten but instead ended up wrapping both arms around it tightly his eyes widening and he swallowed nervously. Sherlock was close. Too close. He'd caught the bags before they'd fallen. John wondered for a moment what he was doing behind him anyway but that thought didn't last long because the onyx eyes seemed to get bigger in his vision.

Sherlock had leaned forward. John leaned back. John swallowed nervously again. His heart was beating ten times faster then it had been when he was being harassed by Rick. What on earth was this?

"Tea." Sherlock breathed. John closed his eyes as the waft of honey scented breath passed over his face. He slowly opened his eyes and blinked several times when Sherlock was no longer in his sight. He straightened, realising that the bent-back position he had been in was very uncomfortable, and searched around the kitchen for Sherlock.

He was calmly sitting at the kitchen table and staring at John expectantly his mug already set out along with the milk.

"Okay…" John said still slightly dazed. He walked toward the kettle and prepared the tea all the while feeling a thoughtful detective's eyes on his back.

 

Sherlock hadn't meant for that to happen. But it did. It did and now he was left feeling strangely exhilarated by this turn of events. John had looked extremely… delectable with his 'deer caught in headlights' eyes and his arms wrapped around the ginger kitten. The sight had stirred something inside Sherlock and before he knew what he was doing he felt quick, shallow breathing against his cheeks. He'd looked so small and vulnerable Sherlock's instinct to mark him, make him his almost overwhelmed him. What had John's dazed expression meant exactly? And why didn't he just immediately push him off? Sherlock never paid much attention to people's personal space but that was a little extreme even for him. But delicious feeling in his stomach wasn't something he disliked; in fact, he wanted to feel it again. Perhaps just to sate some strange need for someone to be close to and to experiment with John's emotions. That would be quite fun. It would also be interesting to see how many different emotions Sherlock could make him feel. It would solve the mystery of how much power he held over people… or at least… over John.

The decision was made. He would advance on John sexually and hopefully gain something from it.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He blinked in confusion when his hand met something rather odd. He fingered it out of his black locks and pulled it in front of his face.

Sherlock blinked several times. It was a post-it. There was a post-it in his hair? Was he losing his touch? Sherlock shook his head in annoyance, No, it was John's fault. Putting strange ideas into his head that made him forget certain things he already knew. He'd picked it up when he was playing- ahem- shooing Pandora away from his paper… with… a… ball of… string… he was shooing it away! No matter what that looked like! Yes, he'd just forgotten it was there because of… what happened.

Anyway, he had picked it up but decided not to take it out because the kitten had too much of his attention already, that's not to say that half of his brain was idle, no, he was trying to finish the cross word puzzle in the Daily Mail.

He returned his attention back to the post-it and read the small memo.

Ring Harry, it read. Sherlock shrugged, that was simple enough. John obviously wanted to talk to his sister. Perhaps he wanted to apologize for a fight, or just talk about the kittens, or talk about him? Yes, he would definitely come up in conversation, whether John meant him to or not. Sherlock felt slightly smug that he obviously had such an impact on John's life. Of course he did. He was a detective that specialised in the science of deduction. There was no one else like him. Of course John would talk about him to his sister. The only trouble was… Sherlock wanted to know what he said.

He knew that John was still in the apartment somewhere because he was the type of person to tell you if he was going out and where. He wasn't out.

Could he be calling her already? Sherlock didn't like to think that he had missed something important John might have said about him and dashed up the stairs to John's room having realised he was not in the living room.

Being the stunning detective he was he'd remembered to bring a glass and held it to the door quietly.

The room was silent for a while. Sherlock wondered if he'd gotten it wrong. Perhaps John wasn't the type of person to tell you when he left. Sherlock frowned. John was making him question himself a lot, wasn't he? Why did he have such a powerful effect on what Sherlock thought and did? It wasn't right for someone to have that kind of effect on someone! Sherlock's mind was brought back to Molly at the morgue (no pun intended). He would just need to compliment her and she would give him anything he wanted. Perhaps that was the same control John had over himself, but different circumstances, of course. He pressed his ear back to the glass not having realised he'd taken it off. Yes, John definitely had a negative effect on Sherlock's brain. It couldn't be healthy, he was sure.

He heard something move inside the room and he stopped breathing. Perhaps to better hear what John was doing or perhaps it was just out of shock that he was actually in there at all. Whatever it was he heard John move some more and then he heard the ominous sound of his mobile phone ringing in the silence of the room.

Sherlock listen more intently while John answered and politely asked who it was. Sherlock paused for a moment. He didn't have his own sister's mobile number?

"Oh, it's you…" He said in an irritated voice.

Obviously his relationship with his sister was not peachy, just as Sherlock thought.

"No, no everything's fine here."

Asking how he is, that's typical talk for someone avoiding an important subject…

"Yes, yes I'm coping fine. I'm a doctor at the local surgery."

Asking if he's coping well, so she's showing an interest in his well being, that's a good start, but Sherlock wondered what this 'important subject' could be.

"Okay, what is it?"

Just as he'd thought, she did have something important to talk to him about.

"Yes, what about him?"

John sounded wary, almost suspicious. That was normal, Sherlock supposed. He was about to talk about Sherlock himself.

"That's not really… for me to say," John said his voice sounded nervous and uncomfortable.

She'd asked him something personal about Sherlock that John couldn't answer truthfully. That was understandable as well.

"Listen, Harry, I don't want to talk about Sherlock's body."

Sherlock froze with his ear stuck hard to the glass. What had he said? His body? So Sherlock was wrong… again. He hadn't been asked about something concerning Sherlock that had to do with something he didn't know. It was something concerning his appearance. For some strange reason Sherlock felt he wanted to know what John thought. He hoped that Harry would persist and get an answer out of him by annoying him.

After a long, long pause John spoke again. "Alright, alright, I'll tell you but I want you to know that I don't… I don't! Do you want me to tell you or not?"

Snarky comments were obviously something Harry enjoyed.

"I suppose… he's kind of… lanky?" John didn't seem too convinced in his own deduction.

Sherlock did feel slightly annoyed with the lack of answer. He was obviously just saying that so his sister wouldn't try and convince him to pursue Sherlock.

"Oh come on! I said didn't I...? No listen don't –"

John was cut off and Sherlock heard an annoyed sigh and a small thump from the phone hitting the bed from his friend's room. Sherlock made sure to dash back downstairs and replace the glass before John came back down. He held his mug up in front of his mouth to hide his smile and waited for John to appear at the kitchen door.

Sherlock didn't have to wait long because a frantic John ran down the stairs and started slightly at seeing Sherlock standing there waiting for him.

"Going somewhere?" The detective asked.

John frowned but ignored whatever he'd been thinking to say. "I've got to go and get something for… my sister… she's coming over in about ten minutes."

Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, so that was it!" He muttered frustrated that he hadn't thought of that sooner.

John became suspicious. "What did you say?"

Sherlock smiled reassuringly. "Nothing, nothing, you go and get the food and I'll straighten up the apartment. I'm assuming that one of the reasons she's coming over is to see me."

John started again in surprise and suddenly looked nervous. "Yes, she is. Don't talk to her if she comes early. I won't be more than 10 minutes." And with those last words said, John ran out of the room and thudded down the stairs. Sherlock paused a little stunned and heard the thudding footsteps come back up the stairs and a panting John leaned against the door frame while he asked. "Could you hide the alcohol?"

Sherlock blinked. "I don't drink."

John smirked slightly. "I do."

Sherlock couldn't take his eyes off of John. That mischievous smirk mixed with his panting chest and half lidded eyes made Sherlock's stomach flutter violently. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and tried to rid his mind of his seductive looking flat mate.

Well, Sherlock thought stunned while he heard John's pounding foot steps leave the house, this should be interesting.

 

John ran outside into the bitter cold evening without his coat. He couldn't afford to waste time with a coat. Harry was coming to the apartment. Harry was coming the apartment! He just knew that she would make a big deal of his flat mate. He knew she would. The fact that Sherlock was handsome didn't help matters either. The thought didn't stop him from running down the street in a hurry to get to the supermarket. The corner shop didn't stock the things he needed.

The reason that that thought hadn't made him stop in his tracks and shake his head was 1) he needed to get some more coffee (anti caffeine, of course) and chuck in some sleeping pills for Harry and he needed to get it fast so he couldn't stop, 2) he thought Sherlock was handsome before. The first time they'd met John had considered the man handsome and felt sorry for any poor girl that would be stuck with him, but alas, when John had made that 'I'm married to my work' comment in the restaurant he'd seen that he wasn't getting a girlfriend quickly. John had a better chance of getting laid than Sherlock did, and he didn't have a very good track record when it came to women, especially because some of them were men. Yes, John Watson had dated a man before but had given up on them after his last man/man relationship. It didn't go well and the break up was messy.

John had never thought of Sherlock in anything other than a friend… well, okay, that might be a slight fib but if John was conscious he made sure to steer clear of those thoughts, whenever they did try to spring up into his mind he'd stomp on them with the memory of Ginger falling down his loo the other day while he was shaving. That had been funny.

The supermarket wasn't packed thankfully. John plodded along morosely toward his usual coffee aisle. Harry and John were a lot alike. They liked the same coffee; they had the same, dry, wit. They had the same hair, eyes, and smile. They were so similar it uncanny.

He reached his usual coffee and sighed in relief when he found the non caffeine.

John stiffened when he noticed his shadow shrouded by another, larger shadow. He didn't turn, knowing what happened when he turned to a man that was standing so close behind him he could literally feel him. It was very uncomfortable in the deserted aisle at the local Sainsbury's (:P).

John knew the shadow didn't belong to Sherlock because 1) Sherlock wasn't that broad with muscle and 2) Sherlock wouldn't run after him if he didn't have to.

"Could you move back please?" John asked hesitantly waiting for Rick to move back slightly.

He did and John turned around only to be pinned against the coffee again, but this time Rick's whole body was flush against John and pressing him into the glass jars making them clink slightly. He disliked this new position even more than the last.

"I think you've been avoiding me, John." Rick purred against his cheek.

John winced at the treatment. His face was far too close to his own. "That might be because I knew you would try and molest me the next time we were alone."

Rick recoiled slightly at the harshness of John's tone but regained his composure quickly and a sickening smirk was plastered across his face. "I'm not going to try and molest you. I don't need to. You're far too weak to put up much of a fight."

John stomach gave a sickening lurch at the information. Of course he knew he couldn't fight off Rick. Rick was large and his limbs were thick with muscle and his hands seemed like they should belong to a Yeti rather than a human male.

Rick stepped back and his smirk disappeared replaced with an intent stare filled to the brim with anticipation. John tried to swallow the lump in his throat but failed miserably. "Pay for your coffee and meet me outside."

John made his way to the check outs with a horrible, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Was he going to be raped? That would be completely humiliating not to mention painful. John hadn't been dominated in so long he was sure it would be like he was a virgin again. He shuddered at the thought. No, he couldn't let that happen. Not only would he have absolutely no pride left after the incident but he would be completely torn up inside and he was sure that Sherlock wouldn't sympathise with him and help him get cleaned up. No, he'd have to call an ambulance and then even more people will know!

He couldn't let Rick rape him. That just couldn't happen. Especially because John only knows the man's first name so he wouldn't be able to prosecute him even he did succeed in his cruel task. John was faced with a very difficult and painful dilemma and he honestly didn't know how he would get out of this one.

 

Sherlock sat patiently at the kitchen table and waited for John to return with the food or whatever he was buying, with John you could ask him to get some milk and he'd come back with skimmed milk! Skimmed? How could anyone drink skimmed milk! It's the foulest substance on his planet! John wondered how I didn't die of starvation I could tell him how, I drink plenty of full cream milk. Not skimmed, not even semi-skimmed milk, just milk, the normal kind that has the blue lid!

There was a loud rap at the door and Sherlock shot up from his seat immediately. That must be Harry. She's come eight minutes before she said she would. She was hoping to catch Sherlock alone, he was sure.

Sherlock descended the stairs quickly. He didn't know why he was in a hurry to meet his flat mate's sister but that was emotions for you. Irrational and illogical.

He opened the door and was shocked by what greeted him. Harry looked exactly like John. She was like a mirror image of him, but female. Sherlock honestly thought that for a moment John had forgotten his keys but it struck him as odd that John suddenly had breasts high heels on before he went out. She was fairly pretty but her hair was greying and wrinkles were appearing around her mouth and eyes. She could possibly even be John's twin they looked so alike. Sherlock noticed that John pulled off the greying hair better than his sister, much better.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes. I'm your brother's flat mate." Sherlock said politely smiling charmingly as he extended a hand to help her into the house.

Harry crossed her arms. "I hope John's told you that I'm a lesbian, Sherlock Holmes."

Well, Sherlock thought to himself, she obviously isn't as polite and conscious as John that's for sure. Sherlock's eyes twinkled with delight. "He didn't need to."

Harry frowned and uncrossed her arms placing a hand across her chest on her shoulder, a strange gesture but a cute one nonetheless. "What do you mean?"

"John hasn't told you much about me has he?"

She shook her head. "No,"

Sherlock smirked in amusement. "Come inside and I'll explain everything."

He almost skipped up the stairs and into the kitchen which was prepared for three people's tea. Saucers were placed about the table and there was a bowl of sugar and a clicker of sweeteners with some tea-spoons beside them.

Harry sat down at one of the chairs and stared blankly at the china saucer in front of her. "I don't drink tea." She said blankly.

"I see," Sherlock said taking the seat opposite her. "You and John both." She obviously wasn't a very cultural woman, Sherlock thought, that china was antique. Any great mind would understand and recognize it. It was a birthday present from Mycroft. John and Harry hadn't commented at all the moment he'd presented it to both of them. Separately, of course.

Harry glanced up at the mention of her brother and looked around slightly. "By the way, where is my brainless brother?"

Sherlock smirked at the affectionate insult and inclined his head to the door. "He went to buy your favourite coffee."

Harry's face softened and she smiled warmly at Sherlock. "Is he?"

Sherlock nodded and didn't bother to tell her that her favourite coffee just happened to be John's too.

After a moment of silence Harry turned on Sherlock with a determined and curious gaze. "So," She began. "How did you know I was a lesbian without John's help? Can you tell just by looking at me?" Her questions were almost accusing, as they were meant to be.

Sherlock smirked. "I can tell just by looking at you. Your hair is greying at a place where you would have had sideburns, had you been male, and you think it makes you look more masculine, also your hands are rough and calloused which suggests that you work somewhere with hard labour, perhaps and blacksmith? And your clothes are from Florence and Fred, Tesco that means your not too concerned with brand names as other women, you also aren't wearing much make-up considering you were coming here to see your brother's flat mate and decide if I'm worthy of your sibling. John's phone was given to him by you just after you're divorce from your wife Clara."

Harry stared at the detective in shocked silence until she got past her speechlessness to speak quietly. "That was amazing."

Sherlock almost burst out laughing. Harry noticed the humorous smile and became curious… again. "Why are you smiling?"

Sherlock decided to let out a small chuckle. It was better to seem friendlier with his interest's sister than get on her bad side. "That was the exact same thing John said the first time I met him."

Harry didn't look surprised. "He is my brother, two hours older."

There was silence while they waited for John to come. Sherlock was comfortable with it but apparently Harry wasn't as good as reading what he wanted as John was.

"You're much nicer than John said you would be."

"I'm not nice. If you weren't John's sister I wouldn't have even opened the door." He said simply. He was quickly losing his interest in Harry, if only she knew.

"So, you like my brother then?" She asked. Sherlock's interest suddenly peaked at the double meaning of her words. Of course she meant if he liked him as a person but she also meant if Sherlock was showing any interest in him.

He had to consider his answer carefully. How much should be divulge to John's sister. He was sure that if he warned her to let them be she would. He wanted to make John feel the same for him before he made any radical confessions. Not that it would come to that. Sherlock Holmes didn't confess to anyone. His feelings weren't at all deep for John. It was purely physical.

"Perhaps," Sherlock answered suggestively.

Harry propped her chin up on her hands elbows on the table, and stared intently at Sherlock. "You seem like a bit of an intense guy. Can I trust you?"

He'd known before that John and Harry had their problems but he also knew that if a sibling was in trouble you became protective, Harry was asking if he was that trouble. "Yes." Was his simple answer. Harry seemed satisfied though because she nodded and leaned back in her chair, a more relaxed pose.

She glanced about the house and smiled. "This is nice."

Sherlock nodded at her question but didn't pay much attention to her after that conversation. There wasn't much else that Harry had to say that would interest him. He only wanted her approval, well, not so much her approval, but he wanted her to think he wanted her approval and to give it to him so she didn't medal in John's love life. The worst thing that could happen she could try to stop Sherlock from advancing and that he could not allow.

Harry and Sherlock both turned there heads when the Grandfather Clock in the living area chimed six o'clock. Sherlock immediately shot up from his seat and ran to the clock. "No! John should be back by now…" Sherlock muttered leaping on the arm chair and grabbing hold of the clock to better take a look and see that it was working fine.

Harry ran into the living room and stared, stunned at Sherlock who was still inspecting the clock and muttering to himself.

"What's wrong? What are you doing?"

Sherlock jumped down from the chair and stood in front of Harry. "When do the shops shut, Harry?"

She blinked in confusion. "Erm… about six. Why?"

"You brother left for Sainsbury's at about quarter to six so he should've been back five minutes ago. He's not here."

Harry blinked again still not understanding Sherlock's worry. He shook his head. "Never mind why." He said and she stepped backward because, well, he answered her thoughts, not her speech. "Stay here."

Sherlock ran down the stairs at full speed and didn't bother to check if Harry was following or not. He needed to get to Sainsbury's as fast as possible. Rick was still tailing them.

Sherlock mentally slapped himself around the face for being so stupid and letting John go on his own. No matter what Mycroft thought he was doing with Rick he was totally out of his depth with this one. Sherlock had read his records. He's a convicted rapist and had harassed several people before in the streets; those were not on the records. How could he have not realised something would happen? It was fairly late on a Tuesday. No one would need their shopping on a Tuesday night, would they? They'd have gotten in on the Sunday so they were ready for the working week. Of course that would when Rick would strike. No one was around, it was perfect. Sherlock felt the anger bubble up under his skin and it pushed his legs to move faster down the road. He prayed to God (and he didn't do that a lot) that he wasn't too late. He didn't want John hurt or worse. If he was hurt he would make Rick Wood would pay with every penny and every year he had left of his life, he wouldn't get away lightly.

When Sherlock reached Sainsbury's he almost smashed down the closed automatic doors. Of course, it was closed. He must be around here somewhere though.

Sherlock ran twice around the large shop but there was no sign. It was pitch black and luck seemed to be on his side because he leaned against the nearest wall to catch his breath and felt his hand meet some warm, sticky liquid.

His stomach gave a sickening lurch and he turned toward the dark alley beside the wall. He brought his hand to his mouth and raked the tip of his finger over his tongue. He recoiled away from his hand at the irony taste. It was definitely blood. But who's? John's?

Sherlock turned into the alley and immediately saw moving shadows.

"Stop! The police have you surrounded!" He yelled and the two shadowed figures stopped in their tracks.

"Oh thank God." Came the sigh from… Rick?

"Sherlock?" John called. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting in the alley Sherlock saw that John was standing over Rick who was on the floor clutching at his leg.

Sherlock approached and raised a brow at John then glanced back to Rick. His unspoken question was answered by John. "He attacked me so I shot him in the leg."

Sherlock nodded silently and murmured an, "I see." Sherlock's senses were flooded with relief and for a moment that was all he could feel. Until he heard a high pitched scream from the end of the alleyway.

He turned to see John's sister, Harriett, with wide eyes and her hands over her mouth.

"What happened?"

Sherlock glanced at John and didn't get around to glancing back at Harry because he was lost in John's blue eyes. He closed the distance between them and whispered menacingly. "I dealt with her for five whole minutes. You are going to pay."


End file.
